


Once Upon A Winchester

by Codependent_Idiots



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cussing, Dean Hates Witches, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, attempts at violence, fairytales - Freeform, not set in any specific season, story-little red riding hood, trapped in fairytales
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-07-23 06:36:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20003920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codependent_Idiots/pseuds/Codependent_Idiots
Summary: Sam and Dean go up against a witch with a love of books and stories. Of course they have to get on her bad side,and soon find themselves trapped in some all-too familiar stories...





	1. The Witch

**Author's Note:**

> I hope ya'll like it, and thanks for reading! Find me on tumblr under codependent_idiots

Sam groaned as he was slammed into a wall by an intense presence in the air. He had lied to Dean, had told him he was going out to gather more research when he had actually come to fight the big bad monster all by himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Dean’s help, he could always use his brother’s help with assholes like this one, but the fact that it was a witch, made it a little difficult. Dean hated witches, and he sometimes lost his head when he was fighting them.

Was coming by himself a risk? Hell yes. Was it worth it to spare Dean from the damn witch? Fuck yes. So, Sam let the witch toss him around like a damn ragdoll, cackling as she flicked her hand back and forth, his limp body following the movements beyond his control.

So okay, Sam was in a bit of a bind as he is now being hung upside down from the ceiling, bound by invisible ropes. But would he call for Dean (if he could, that is), for his big brother to come in and save the day? Not this time. Nope.

Because apparently, he didn’t have to. He heard the harsh snap! as the front door was kicked in by a heavily worn boot, and the mad stomp-stomp! of the boots as they raced into the room. The witch just laughs and rounds on him, another flick of her hand and Dean’s trusty gun is gone, skittering across the floor before he too is hung upside down next to his brother.

“Research huh?” Dean grunts as he struggles against the invisible bonds. The witch is still laughing, a high-pitched noise that grates against the two brothers eardrums. 

“I had it covered,” Sam mumbles, a snort coming from his brother as green eyes meet hazel in the musty room. 

“Sure you did Sammy. That’s why we’re both tied up now. And will probably get killed. Fucking witches man.”

“I know,” is all Sam said as the witch approached them, her laughter quieted now as she looks from one brother to the other.

“The Winchesters. So nice to finally make your acquaintance,” she says, grinning. To the normal person, hell even to a Hunter, she looks like any other human - plain brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, soft brown eyes, relatively young-looking compared to some witches they’ve met; and dressed in a fucking pink sweatervest with a white shirt underneath and a black skirt that fell just right above her knees, she looked like she could be anyone. This witch happened to have inserted herself into the local library, which is how she got her victims - possessed and cursed books. “You can call me Sally. It’s the name I’m using this time around. Fitting, don’t you think?”

The brothers don’t answer, their faces slowly turning red as all the blood rushes to their heads. She giggles now, switching over quickly from deranged psycho to innocent bystander in minutes. It freaked them out just a bit - most witches were just ‘here’s a curse, fuck you’ but this one - Sally, as she so politely called herself - seemed to bounce from human to witch and back in the span of a heartbeat.

“You know, books are so great,” she says, looking away from them now as she walks over to a low bookshelf, overflowing with fat, water-damaged books. ‘They’re so… magical,” she says softly, snapping her fingers so the two brothers crash to the floor; she had been nice enough to make a broken sagging mattress appear for them to land on. Her back was to them, not seeming to be worried in the slightest that they had intended to kill her. “I think you two need a little more magic in your lives, don’t you?” She turns now, a smile lighting up her face, a small cracked book in her hands. The brothers stand up slowly, both reaching for knives they have hidden on their bodies. She still just smiles at them as she flips open the book. “Tell me, what’s your favorite story?” 

The two of them lunge, perfectly in sync as usual. She laughs, high and loud, and snaps her fingers.


	2. Little Red Riding Hood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean enter their first story, and man, Dean really doesn't like fur or the color red anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, I hope this turn outs the way I hope!  
> Enjoy, and thanks for reading the new chapter :)

**_Little Red Riding Hood_ **

Sam groans, his head pounding, as if from a major hangover. He’s laying on the ground, limbs sprawled out around him. He sits up, rubbing his head as he looks around - he’s in a forest of some kind, on the path at least, and there’s an honest-to-God- wicker basket by his feet, filled to the brim with bread and cheese and snackcakes.

And of course, Sam finds all of this fucking  _ weird _ , since the last thing he remembers is going at the witch with Dean. Which brings the next question now that his mind has cleared:  _ where was Dean? _

“What the hell?” he mutters, standing up and finally looking down at himself to assess the damage from the fall. And makes him do a double-take, since now he is in dark blue jeans, a white polo shirt, and a bright, warm red hoodie with the hood hung low over his face. He shoved the hood off and looked around his surroundings, trying to figure out where the hell he was.

“SAM?!” He whirled as he heard the panicked yell of his name. 

“DEAN!” Sam took off down the path, his heart thudding in his chest as he ran, leaving basket by the side of the path. As he rounds a corner in the path, the basket is in his hand, gripped tight, and the hood back over his head - none of that registers though as his brother steps out of the trees and blocks his way on the path.

At least, he thinks its his brother. The man - Sam is pretty sure it’s Dean, but he’s seen enough monsters impersonating him to be cautious - is wearing dark jeans with rips in various parts of the legs, and a plain black t-shirt with a dark gray overshirt with the arms rolled up to above his elbows; his feet and arms are bare, except they are covered in dark blonde/brown  _ fur _ . From what Sam can see, it’s on his neck and on his face too, but not so much on his face that he doesn’t still look like Dean - the fur seems to stop right up his jaw and into his hair, leaving his face open. But the most damning things are…

“WHY THE FUCK DO I HAVE EARS AND A FUCKING TAIL?! WHY AM I FUCKING  _ WEREWOLF?!?!?!? _ ” Dean wasn’t wrong - with the fur, and the ears, and the tail, and now Sam noticed claws on his hands and feet… Dean was a werewolf… Sam looked at the red hoodie again and the basket now in his hand, connecting the dots.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled, looking at his freaking-out brother.

“What? I know that look this isn’t good is it?”

“We’re in a fucking fairytale.”

“FUCKING WITCH-BITCH! I hate fucking witches. Gonna kill every last one,” Dean muttered now, tugging on one of the ears that sat on top of his head, like some badly-created cartoon wolf. He meant to groan in aggravation, but instead let out a small growl as he looked at Sam. “So what the fuck are you supposed to be?!” Sam gave him a sheepish grin and held up the basket and shoved the stupid red hood off his head again.

“I think I’m Little Red Riding Hood, which makes you…”

“Oh fucking fuck,” Dean growled, yelling at the sky now. “LET US OUT OF HERE YOU STUPID WITCH-BITCH SO I CAN GANK YOUR ASS!”

“Oh that’s no way to talk to a lady.” They turned, seeing Sally standing behind them, book in hand. “I told you boys, you need a little more magic in your lives. You don’t get out that easily.” Dean reached for his gun, which of course he didn’t have, making him just growl again. She giggled and then sighed. “Enjoy the stories boys. I’ll see you soon.” They blinked, and she was gone.

…

“Man, I never read these fucking things when I was a kid,” Dean grumbled as he and Sam walked through the forest. Sam still carried the damn basket - he had tried throwing it away from him as far as possible, but it just appeared back in his hand every time; and the damn hood would only stay down for a few minutes before it was back over his head. “What the fuck do we have to do now?”

“Well, red riding hood has to go to her grandmother’s house, she gets stopped by the wolf, which is you-”

“Which means you’re a girl,” Dean snickered, even if he was tugging back on the ears on his head again. Sam rolled his eyes and gave his brother his best bitch-face that he could with a large red hood over his face. “Fine. So I stop you and…”

“Essentially you become obsessed, follow me to grandma’s, pretend to be her after you eat her, and then me, and then you get chopped up by the big bad woodcutter.”

“Fucking hell,” Dean mumbled, rubbing a paw - a  _ hand, he had fucking hands _ \- over his face as he looked at his brother, who just shrugged. “Well then, off to grandmother’s house we go,” Dean said in a sing-song voice. Sam tried his hardest to not laugh, but he did, laughing as the two of them continued their walk through the forest.

…

It wasn’t long before the two of them came up on a small cottage, the two of them stopping right in front of the door.

“So do I go in and… man I can’t kill a little old lady,” Dean said, turning to Sam and frowning. “Wolfman or not, I don’t wanna do this.” Sam nodded and shoved the stupid hood of his head again.

“Let’s both go in and see what’s going on.” Dean nodded and pushed open the door so the two of them could enter. They stopped though when they saw who was in the bed.

“What the hell did you idjits do now?” Dean and Sam shared a confused look before they looked back at the bed, where one very grumpy hunter was propped up against a bunch of pillows, dressed in a pink nightgown, his signature hat shoved down over his face.

“Bobby?!”

“Okay one, I’m not eating Bobby. And two, how the hell is he even here?!” Sam looked over at the older hunter, who just huffed and got comfier on the bed. It looked like Bobby, sure, and sounded like him, but something just seemed…  _ off _ . 

“I don’t think he is,” Sam said, looking at Dean now. “I think she is using what we know, or  _ who _ we know as characters in the story. So if Bobby is grandma….” Sam started, earning an annoyed grunt from the older man.

“Then who’s the other guy?” Dean finished the thought when the door was slammed open, making the two of them turn to see their own father, one was supposed to be dead, John Winchester, with a gleaming, shiny ax in his hand.

“Boys, what is going on here?” John asked the question, but his eyes turned dark as eyed Dean, who still looked like a wolf. “Now, you know what you gotta do Dean, dontcha?” John asked, the ax still in his hands. Dean took a step back, but his dad didn’t move. “You gotta eat Sammy. Then I gotta kill you. It’s the way the story goes. We gotta finish the story boys.” Dean began to shake his head no, but then he let out a snarl and rounded on his brother, who dropped his basket and began to back away, yanking the stupid red hood down and off his face again.

“Dean,” Sam said, voice soothing as he moved closer to the bed. “Dean, it’s me. It’s Sam. Your little brother. Your Sammy. You don’t want to do this.” Dean snarled again and stepped closer, his usual green eyes seeming to glow as he stalked closer. “Dean. Don’t,” he whispered, face falling into his patented puppy dog look. Dean stopped, but still growled as he focused on Sam. “You’re not a wolf, Dean. You don’t wanna eat me.”

“Oh I do Sammy. But not like this,” Dean growled, making Sam’s brow furrow in confusion by the statement before he turned around again, this time lunging at their dad, who raised the ax and brought it down in a swift swing, right at his oldest son’s head.

  
  


...


	3. Snow White & The Seven Drawfs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean are into the next story. Who's the princess this time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCKING FINALLY. I am so bad with updating, I'm so sorry. I will ALWAYS TRY TO UPDATE. I don't plan on ever leaving a story unended. If that's any consolation for the wait...  
> ...

Dean fell down on hard ground, hissing as pain shot up his leg. “What the fuck?” he muttered, sitting up and looking into the face of the one and only Jody Mills, dressed in armor and holding a dagger above his head. “Jody?!”

“Dean. Go. Run. Before she makes me kill you.” Jody was struggling, the dagger shaking in her grasp. 

“Who? The witch?”

“ _No_. Your stepmother. The story… RUN DEAN! NOW! And don’t come back.” Dean shook his head, trying to make sense of her words, barely just rolling out of the way as she threw the dagger into the ground, where he had been only moments before. He scrambled to his feet, took one look at the struggling woman as she lunged for the knife in the ground, and turned tail and ran. His chest was burning - man he needed to work out more - when he finally fell to his knees, gasping in lungfuls of air. 

Now, he looked up, and realized he was in a clearing, and there was another damn cottage nestled into the woods.

“Gotta be fucking kidding me,” he muttered, standing up and taking a look at himself - no more wolf ears or tale or fur, thank God - he was now dressed in dark blue slacks and a button down with a blue vest. “The hell am I wearing now?” Dean looked around, but didn’t see anything that could help him figure out where he was now. “SAM!” Nothing. Wherever Sam was, it wasn’t here. “Just freakin’ great. Damn witches.” Seeing no way to avoid it, Dean went into the cottage.

“Oh you gotta be shittin’ me.”

…

Sam stared down at his black pants and white shirt, a heavy sword dangling from his hip and the horse by his side that kept stomping at the ground impatiently. He leaned down to look the horse in the eyes. “Do you know what story I’m in now?” The horse just winnied, making Sam sigh. “Great. Guess I’m going horseback riding.” 

…

Dean stared at the small group of men who were huddled in the house, staring at him. Mentally, he began to count them. There were seven… seven small men, all wearing familiar faces. There was Castiel, Jack, Bobby, Rufus, Gabriel, Adam, and Crowley, all in a compact form as they stared up at Dean - they came up to his waist when standing at their full height. 

“The hell happened to you guys? Why are you all midgets?” he asked, making Castiel sigh and step forward.

“Not midgets. _Dwarves_.” Understanding dawned on Dean’s face as he counted how many of them were once again.

“Sonuvabitch. If there’s seven midgets-”

“ _Dwarves!”_

“Then that means I’m fucking Snow White. Just great.”

…

The horse seemed to know where it was going, so Sam let it lead him through thick, dark woods. He could see the edge of a castle far up on a hill in the opposite direction from where he left, a moderately sized one from where he came. So he was some kind of prince, or maybe a knight? With the sword on his hip, it was hard to tell for certain.

So, he thought about all the fairytales he knew of with princes - _spoiler, there’s_ ** _alot_** \- and nudged the horse with his heels, making it begin to trot just a little bit faster.

He hoped it was taking him in the direction of his brother.

…

Dean fell onto one of the minituature beds, his face in his hands.

“Fucking Snow White. Fucking fuck,” he mumbled, head jerking when he heard a giggle. Sally was there, smirking at him.

“That’s no way for a princess to talk,” she chided, the dwarves behind her let out what sounded like demonic giggles - it creeped Dean out to be honest. 

“I’m not a fucking princess you dumb witch-bitch,” he grumbled, making her smirk again. “When I get out of here I’m going to mount your fucking head on my wall.”

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep. You have to make it out of here first. You have to finish the stories before you can do anything else.” With those words, she was gone, and Dean found himself surrounded by the tiny versions of people he knew.

“Just fucking great,” he mumbled, falling back on the tiny bed. Where the fuck was his brother when he needed him?

…

“Okay, I’m pretty sure you’re just taking me in circles,” Sam said to the horse that he was _still_ riding on. The horse just made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a snort, and continued on to wherever it was going now.

…

Dean jerked up when he heard the miniature versions of the people he knew all break out into a loud chorus of “ _heigh-ho, heigh-ho, heigh-ho_ ” as they left him alone in the cottage.

“The fuck?” he mumbled as he stood up, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he looked around. He was _starving_. There had to be a kitchen around here somewhere, right? Suddenly, he felt a small fluff of air ruffle his hair and bring the most delicious scent to his nose.

_Pie_.

Like a bad cartoon character, he let his nose lead the way into a small kitchen – it was cramped with a big table with seven tiny chairs around it, a stove, and a fridge. It had one window in the room, and sitting on the windowsill was a delicious looking pie.

“It’s apple,” a voice said, making Dean look up to an older woman in a cloak, who stood on the other side of the window. “I made it for you.” For some reason, Dean knew he should step back, not eat the pie, but he wasn’t one to ever turn down pie, stuck in some stupid fairytale or not. 

But for some reason, he still hesitated.

“No thanks,” he said, turning his back on her. But she was behind him now, holding a slice pie on a plate now.

“Eat the pie, Dean. Play the store.” He looked down at his hand, which now held a fork. “Just one bite. That’s all you need. It’s a very good pie I promise.” Dean shook his head, but even so, his hand rose and speared a piece of pie on the end of the fork.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he brought the pie to his lips. It smelled so good, and he really did love pie. He was sure Sam would beat him over the head if he could see him now. Oh well, at least he’d die with one thing he loved.

As he swallowed down the most delicious pie, the woman changed from an old hag into Rowena, who dropped the plate on the floor.

“Stupid boy. Should have let the sheriff kill you while you had the chance.” Dean’s brain was already beginning to turn to mush, his vision growing fuzzy as he fell onto the ground. “Shame. I actually kind of liked you.”

…

Sam let out a groan of relief as the damn horse finally came to a stop. He could see a small cottage in the distance, so he nudged the horse with his heels, but he wouldn’t move.

“So you gonna make me walk the rest of the way?” he asked the horse, who just snorted again. Rolling his eyes – he was talking to the damn horse – he got off and began to make his way to the cottage. When he got there, the door was open, as if whoever was inside knew he was coming.

“Just great,” he muttered, stooping to get in the door, which seemed much smaller than doors in the real world. He looked into the room and stopped, heart beginning to race. A cluster of small beds had been pushed together to hold the comatose body that laid on the bed. “Dean?” 

His brother laid on the bed, pale, eyes closed. His breathing was so slow, and he was so still… 

It was only when one of the small men turned that Sam could put the dots together. These faces of his friends and family, the fact that there were seven, and that Dean was now unconscious on their beds…

“Shit,” he muttered, eyes closing briefly as he thought about what he had to do. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Gotta play the story Sam.” He turned to see Sally grinning at him. “Only way to get out of this hell, is to play your part. Have fun.” She laughed – man, fuck witches, he was so done – and then disappeared again. 

He turned around slowly to see the little men had moved so he could make his way toward his sleeping brother. He knew what he had to do.

“You know Samuel, you don’t have to do this.” He turned to see Rowena standing there, smiling at him. “Before you ask, no, I am not here. I got the lovely duty of being Snow Dean’s wicked stepmother, the Evil Queen. Fit the bill nicely don’t you think? Always knew I was meant to be a queen.”

“Why are you here? You’re not in this part of the story.”

“No, I am not. But see, Sally kind of likes you. You do have a certain charm, Samuel, don’t you? So she’s giving you an option my dear boy. I would suggest you take it. Leave Dean here, to forever slumber in her fairytale, and you can leave. Just do not come for her.” Sam turned his back on her and strode to his brother. Falling to his knees next to the bed, he took a deep breath and leaned over his unconscious brother’s face. Letting out his breath in a shaky gasp, Sam leaned over and pressed his lips against Dean’s in a soft, quick kiss.

As he pulled away, Dean’s eyes fluttered open. He stared at his little brother, shocked.

“Did you just kiss me awake?” Sam gave him a small crooked smile before he was yanked away, falling flat on his back as they were thrown into a new story.

…


	4. The Little Mermaid / The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean find themselves in one final story before the witch yanks them back to reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW. If ya'll follow me on tumblr (https://codependent-idiots.tumblr.com/) then ya'll know I've been trying to get this stuff updated. ANYWAYS. Yay new chapter!
> 
> P.S. - if you don't follow me on tumblr, you should check it out - I got some stuff posted over there that you might enjoy!

**_The Little Mermaid_ **

Sam groaned as he opened his eyes. He was laying face down on a smooth object - maybe a table or something. He tried to blink what he thought was sleep out his eyes, since his vision was still kind of wavy around the edges, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. So, he slowly sat up, or tried to, until he looked down at what had once been a pair of long, manly legs.

Now he had a long green fish tail, all the way from his hips to his where his feet should have been.

Sam screamed.

…

Dean was woken up to a rough tongue licking across his cheek.

“I swear if that’s you Sammy I’m gonna cut out your tongue,” he mumbled as he opened one eye, seeing a large shaggy dog sitting by his head. “Ugh. Dogs,” he muttered, never much of a fan for the four-legged animals. He sat up and glanced down at his clothes - white button down, blue pants, black boots - there was no real way to tell what the hell kind of story he was in now. He didn’t know of many - if any- fairytales that had dogs in it.

Great. Where the hell was Sam?

And then he had to think on another thought… Sam had  _ kissed _ him in the last story. Had to kiss him awake with true loves kiss, or whatever the hell it was called. And what the hell was that supposed to mean?

…

Okay, so Sam was a mermaid. The Little Mermaid he had to guess. He really hoped this was Disney’s version and not the original, because that one does not end pretty for him. With little thought of the matter, Sam was up and swimming around in small circles.

“Okay, not so hard,” he muttered, looking around now, trying to figure out where to go now. He was getting the pattern of the witches stories - one of them would be the damsel, the other the hero. So if Sam was Ariel, that meant he had to get legs and get up onto dry land to find his Prince Eric - he meant,  _ his brother _ . 

Which meant, to get legs, he had to find whoever was playing the sea witch. 

With that in mind, he began to swim.

…

He found the cave easily enough, it was dark and foreboding while everything else was shimmering shades of blues and greens. He swam in slowly, looking around. 

He was so distracted that he didn't see the blood red tentacle before it was too late, wrapping around his middle and dragging him farther into the cave. 

"Samuel. Always so good to see you." He looked up to see Rowena grinning at him, her hair up in a messy bun on top of her head and then, from her chest down, was slick red and ended in long, suctioned tentacles. 

"Is every witch in this story gonna be played by you?" he asked, making her shrug as she moved around a large pot. 

"How many other witches do you know? Now. Enough small talk Samuel! What can I do for you? Why have you come to the Sea Witch?" 

"I need to be made human," he said, waggling his tail for emphasis. "I gotta find Dean.

"Well you know the drill Samuel. Give me your voice, I'll give you legs, you've got three days to make him fall in love, blah blah blah. Just say the word."

"Fall in love?! That's my brother!" Rowena sighed and slithered a little closer to him. 

"Has that ever really mattered to either of you?" she asked quietly, eyes growing dark. He squirmed a bit at her implications "Now Samuel. Say what you want." Sam sighed and threw up his hands.

"I wanna be human."

She cackled and began to throw things into the pot, which in turn exploded around them, shooting Sam straight up to the surface.

…

Dean was on the beach with the dog again when he noticed a large man sprawled out on the beach. 

"Sammy!" Dean leaned over his brother, who had something wrapped around his waist, hair damp and curling up around his face. "Sammy?" Dean patted his face, and finally he found himself looking into those soft hazel eyes he knew so well. Sam blinked a couple of times and finally noticed who was staring at him. He moved his lips, trying to speak, but nothing came out. "What the hell?" Sam sighed and finally sat up, meeting Dean's eyes, his own betraying his annoyance.

Sam made a few vague movements between the two of them, a kissy face, and a heart with his hands. Luckily, Dean could speak Sam.

"We gotta kiss? Again?" Sam nodded and Dean groaned. "What is up with this witch?" Sam shrugged, but his face began to heat up as he realized he wasn't completely turned off with the idea of kissing his brother. How fucked up was that? 

Dean didn’t miss the embarrassed flush on his brother’s face, and tried to will his own away. Looks like neither of them were truly against kissing the other, and what the fuck could that mean? Dean wasn’t supposed to want to kiss his little brother. His little brother wasn’t supposed to want to kiss him.

What was this witch playing at? Dean groaned and helped Sam to stand, who seemed to wobble much more than usual, so Dean slipped an arm around his waist - which just reminded Dean that his brother was essentially naked - and helped hold him up.

“Okay Chatty Cathy, let's get you some clothes.”

…

Sam was dressed and seated at a large table- since Dean was playing the prince part, he had found himself in a nice large castle by the sea. Talk about living the high life.

Dean dug out some paper and a quill - because of course this place wouldn’t have pens, nope, had to have quills and ink - and got Sam to write down what was going on now. Dean leaned over Sam’s shoulder, reading as he wrote.

“Little Mermaid… 3 days for true loves kiss.... wait, you’re a fish?!” Sam gave Dean one of his best bitchfaces and went back to writing. “K. Not the point. Got it. No voice… Rowena is an octopus?” Another bitchface. “Fine. Okay. You can’t talk, and we gotta kiss. So let’s kiss and get it over with,” Dean said, moving to sit next to Sam, who shook his head. “What?” Sam wrote something down and handed it to him. “Don’t think it’ll work that way. I need to make you love me,” Dean read, glancing at Sam now. “But I already love you?” Dean didn’t miss the flush now spreading over his brother’s cheeks, and it made him feel way too warm and fuzzy. “Okay, enough of this chick-flick moment. Just let me kiss you Sammy.” Sam shook his head again, frowning. “What now?”

Sam made to write something else down but Dean grabbed his hand. Sam cocked his head in question as Dean sighed.

“I think it’ll work Sammy. We don’t need three days.”

Sam flushed, heat spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. Dean rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment - he hadn’t realized how deep his feelings for Sam went until they were stuck in these stupid stories. Dean leaned forward just a bit, and Sam copied his movements almost exactly, until they were both only a breath away from each other.

“YOU THINK YOU TWO CAN JUST MESS UP MY STORIES LIKE THIS?!?” They were both yanked back and away from each other, falling flat on their backs.

They were ripped out of the story and back into the small library where they had started. Sally was in the middle of the room, practically snarling as the two men tried to sit up from where they had fallen.

“Sammy?” Dean called, and Sam groaned, his throat raw and voice haggard as he let out a choked cry of ‘Dean’. Dean sighed, glad to hear Sam’s voice back. The witch turned on him first, leaving her back turned to Sam, who was still making his way to sitting up. Dean was slowly rising to his feet, the strength returning quicker to him than it was to his little brother.

“I had so many stories planned for you two.  _ Cinderella _ ,  _ The Wizard of Oz, The Swan Princess! _ So many options... But you two... “ she took a deep breath through her nose and breathed out through her mouth, trying to compose herself. “You two… Everyone knew you two were… and yes, the stories were supposed to push those feelings out in the open… but you two…. You were supposed to play the parts in the story! If you just go off willy-nilly and do your own things, where does that leave me, the writer? The creator?! YOU WINCHESTERS RUIN EVERYTHING!” She raised her hand up to Dean, about to shoot something at him, some spell or something, but Sam was quicker, now that he was back on his feet.

He pushed a solid silver dagger into her chest from behind, straight through her heart.

Neither brother expected her to explode.

After they were covered in what looked like disgusting green slime, they looked down between them to see a beaten, slime-covered book lying by their feet.

“Well, that’s new.”

…

After they had burned the book that had been left behind, making sure it was nothing but ash, they went back to the bunker, showered off the disgusting slime that was beginning to dry to their skin, and met back in the kitchen.

Without even looking at his brother, Sam pulled two beers from the fridge and handed one to Dean, who took it, but set it down and pulled Sam’s from his fingers.

“Sammy?” Sam, who was a good three inches taller than his big brother, finally raised his eyes to look straight into the green ones that he knew so well. “You know I don’t do these… moments, very well,” Dean said, seeming to struggle for words. Sam nodded, deciding to save his brother from hurting himself. 

It was almost too easy, like this is something he had always been meant to do, as he slipped his hands around Dean’s face and pulled him close, kissing him deeply. Dean’s arms immediately came around him, his hands spreading over Sam’s back, bringing him closer as he took control of the kiss.

When they finally parted for air, Sam’s hands were now on Dean’s shoulders and Dean kept his arms firmly around Sam’s waist.

“So does this make me your Prince Charming?” Dean asked, making Sam snort as he rested his forehead against Dean’s shoulder.

“I don’t care how many times you ask, I’m not putting on a princess dress.” Now Dean snorted, pulling Sam against his chest just a little tighter.

He wasn’t one for sappy fairytales, but this was one story that he was interested in seeing play out.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, I am STILL terrible at editing :)
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING <3


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